


Learning to Breathe

by A_Bright_Idea



Series: Hurt & Healing [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Big Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Cameo Appearance from John Constantine, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Drowning, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Big Brother Dick Grayson, Good Big Brother Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Siblings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Bright_Idea/pseuds/A_Bright_Idea
Summary: Whilst taking down a sex-trafficking ring, Jason get's caught in an explosion and almost drowns. Saved by Nightwing, Jason is horrified when his brother refuses to leave his side until he's fully recovered. There's just no arguing with a guilt-ridden Dick, but maybe this is exactly what Jason needs?Maybe it's what Dick needs too.-------------------Sequel to 'I'll be Home for Christmas' and 'A Little Unsteady'. Can be read alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment in my 'Hurt & Healing' series. This one concentrates on Dick and Jason, and follows up on 'A Little Unsteady' which left us with Dick hunting Jason down to get back a magical amulet Jason 'borrowed'. 
> 
> All characters and the world belong and are copyright to DC.

Jason hated scoping out buildings. He knew it was necessary, and he never allowed himself to be lazy with it—everything was done clinically, professionally, properly—but that didn’t change the fact that he loathed standing so close to dirt-bag criminals, and not being able to get them straight away.

 _I have to be smart,_ he would repeat to himself, _Smart causes the most damage. Smart doesn’t leave room for fuck-ups._

This particular job was harder than most. He’d promised to stop killing—unless absolutely necessary, in combat—but the old instinct in him was hard to ignore. Especially when it came to sex-traffickers. Jason had been tracking them for weeks, slowly taking out their operation, feeding evidence to the police and dismantling what had turned out to be a whole sick empire.

This was the last post. The survivors of his, unfortunately, metaphorical cull. Jason just wanted to get in there and finish it up, but he had to do it right.

His strained mood wasn’t made any better by the stalker who’d been watching him for the last fifteen minutes. Jason changed position, jumping down from the vantage point and landing silently in an alley bellow. The stalker dogged him, a few feet behind.

“I don’t need you here,” Jason growled, and then emphasised, “ _Nightwing.”_

“And here I thought I had an open invitation.” Dick stepped out from the shadows, grinning beneath his mask. “Seeing as you  _stole_  my amulet.”

“I told Red Robin I’d give it back.”

“Two months ago. Yeah. Your return is overdue.”

“What are you, a library?”

“I should start charging fines,” Dick murmured, tapping his chin.

“Maybe before that, you can start charging the kid for using you as his personal shrink,” Jason replied. Dick’s amusement melted away.

“Don’t be an asshole, Jason.”

“Well, Red Robin may love it when you’re all over him, but I’ve got better shit to do. So piss off. I’ll get your damn amulet back to you later.”

Dick scrutinised him. “You’re in a bad mood.”

“Because I don’t like being  _babysat.”_

“Maybe you should stop being such a baby _bat then._ ”

Jason cut himself off, mid curse and glared at Dick, fighting back a smile. “How dare you make a pun like that when I’m trying to be angry with you—especially one so  _shit_.”

“Did it work?”

“Your sense of humour is garbage.”

“But did it work?”

“Fuck you, dick.” Jason grinned, and Dick rolled his eyes.

“ _Original.”_ Dick folded his arms. “So, what’s the job then?”

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “Like you don’t know.”

“I really don’t.”

Jason was surprised. “Wait, you mean you’re really here because of the amulet?”

“That’s what I said. What did you think?”

“I thought the old man sent you to keep an eye on me.”

“He doesn’t even know where you are. Red Robin got me your location.”

“Huh,” Jason’s chest felt strange—both pleased, and a little disappointed. “Thought B liked to keep tabs on us.”

“I think he’s started to realise keeping ‘tabs’ and spying on his adult sons might be a bit different,” Dick said.

“Jesus, he’s _learning_?”

“Scary, isn’t it?” Dick’s stare was searching. “Why did you assume Batman would want me to watch you on this one, Hood?”

“Cus he’s an overbearing bastard?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve got underground like this. You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I would have. But then I got your messages, and they were all just you being a whiny bitch about the amulet, so I figured it wasn’t important.”

“I’m going to deck you,” Dick said, still smiling. Jason would never say, but there had always been something inherently sinister about Dick when he made threats with that smile. “Give me the rundown of what we’re dealing with.”

“I’m dealing with—don’t need an assist with this.”

“Don’t need it, but you’ve got it.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” Jason gave in. “I’ve been taking down a sex trafficking ring. I used the amulet to infiltrate the operation. It’s taken weeks of works, but it’s almost finished.”

“Did you come here to kill them?” Dick asked evenly.

“If I did, do you honestly think I’d still be staking the place out? I’m waiting for them to bring in their next shipment, at which point I’ll round ‘em up, tip off the police, and hand over crooks and evidence in one go, just the way the old man likes it,” he spat the last words out. Dick digested this information slowly.

“Exit and entry points?”

“Three. Usual entrance won’t be used by anybody. The main two are the one facing out onto the river—that’s where the shipment will come in, and the one through the garage around the back. They’ll load their victims into trucks there.”

“OK,” Dick said. “I’ll go cover the river exit—make sure they have no way of getting out, once they’re in. I’ll set my coms to your frequency, so we can talk.”

“I really don’t need your help with this,” Jason said firmly, but Dick was already streaking away, as quick and silent as a shadow.

*

 

It went down as Jason expected. At three in the morning, the shipment came in and Jason had to sit, teeth gritted as a group of terrified young men and women—some barely teenagers—were dragged out from confined boxes on the boat and led at gun-point into the building.

“I’ll get the boatmen,” Dick’s voice was strained and cold. “Don’t attack just yet.”

“Don’t give me orders,” Jason replied, but he agreed. If he went in now, guns blazing, the risk of casualty was too high. Better to wait until the traffickers had secured their ‘cargo’ into one of the trucks. They’d be safe and out of the way then. Jason had already sabotaged the trucks to ensure they wouldn’t start, incase anyone tried to make a quick get-away.

Over the coms, Jason listened with some satisfaction as Nightwing quietly, and efficiently dealt with the scumbags on the ship. It barely took a minute.

“Done. Waiting on your signal, Hood.”

Jason watched carefully. The prisoners were slowly herded into the back of the truck, one by one. Several were crying, and Jason’s hand shook. He wanted to kill the bastards—he really wanted to kill them.

“Keep your cool,” Dick’s voice was soft over the coms.

“Shut up,” Jason replied, and watched as the last young girl was thrown into the truck and the doors were swung closed. “We’re up.” He threw himself down from the ledge and into the action.

From the other exit, Nightwing came swinging in.

 

*

 

They watched the recovery from a safe distance. The lights from the cop cars and ambulances created a sort of spectacle, as dozens of squads cleared out the area.

For once, Dick wasn’t chatting, so the pair sat in silence. Jason knew they shouldn’t linger for long, but he needed to see the victims being carefully loaded into ambulances and taken away. He needed to see them get free. It was the only thing which would alleviate his anger enough to stop him storming the precinct and shooting all the sex-traffickers in the head.

As the last victim was carted away, Jason rose. “Come on, Dickface—it’s over.”

“Right.” Dick seemed distracted. He slowly made to rise just as the sound of gun-shots erupted along the river. Both Jason and Dick’s head snapped around.

One of the traffickers was still on the ship, and was firing at the police who were trying to board.

“I thought you dealt with everybody on the boat!?” Jason snapped at Dick, already running for the ledge.

“I thought I did!” Dick replied, and threw himself off the side of the building after Jason. Jason released his gatling gun, and swung himself up and around through the air in a huge arc, sending him flying over the water straight onto the boat. He fell into a forward roll as he landed, springing to his feet and running at the gunman. Behind him, Dick was quick to follow.

The gunman noticed them, and turned his fire. Dick and Jason split into separate directions, circling. The gunman swore, and tore a grenade from his belt. He threw it straight at Jason’s feet. It exploded on impact, Jason throwing himself clear. The blast was bigger than a normal grenade, and caught him mid-air. He was thrown hard against the side, his body collapsing, boneless, to the ground, momentarily stunned.

For half a second he couldn’t think, and then his senses almost rebooted like a computer. Pain burned along his whole right side. Dislocated shoulder. Cracked ribs. Concussion, probably. Broken wrist. Worse than that, his ears were ringing loudly, vision blurred. The world was a warped, swaying mess around him.

Durability and years of training had him up a second later, but the gunner was already on him. He was dressed differently to the others—a mercenary, and well trained too. Jason dodged a punch to the head, but was still too disorientated by the bomb to avoid the kick to his stomach. He hunched over, breathless, and swung his own punch. His balance was shaken and he missed.

The merc hit him again, and then swept down, taking Jason’s legs out from under him. Before Jason could correct himself, the merc had used the momentum of the fall to grab him and shove him back hard. Jason found himself tumbling off the side of the ship.

“Hood!” Dick appeared a moment later, swing around on his grappling hook. He snapped his hand out to grab Jason’s, but missed by mere centimetres. “Jason!” Dick screamed.

 _Codenames, you moron,_ Jason thought, and then hit the black water.


	2. Chapter 2

Water rushed into his lungs, like liquid fire. Jason gasped,  tossed by the strong currents of the river. Pressure pushed down on his body, pinning it, sending him tumbling until he didn’t know which way was up or down. He felt both heavy, and too light.

And the pain—the _pain—_ worse than a beating, worse than broken bones, worse than even getting shot.

The pain of death.

 _Not again,_ Jason thought desperately, as his mind began to lose focus. _Not again._

Arms wrapped around him.

*

 

 “Come on! Come on, Jason!” Something was hammered against him, rhythmic and strong. The sensation was distant, but growing. It was a new kind of pain. More familiar.

 _I’m not dead._ The thought flittered through his mind, and then, as if triggered by a magic word, a jolt jumped through him and his body bucked. The world came alive around him, blurred and confusing, but he was there, conscious, back in his own body. A torrent of water erupted from his mouth, and he choked and coughed.

“Oh thank God! Oh, Saint Sarah!” it was Dick’s voice, spoken in a rush. Jason felt himself being flipped and then hammered across the back. He retched out another waterfall of river water, coughing and spluttering. His lungs felt like they’d been yanked inside out, and each gasp of air was like swallowing batarang.

“That’s it,” Dick said. “Get it all out. Deep breaths.” He paused, and his voice almost cracked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Everything hurt. His whole body, inside and out. He vomited again, and then lay, shaking violently. He could feel Dick’s hands patting down his body, checking his injuries.

Small streams of steam began to rise in the air, as his suit’s internal heating activated, driving away the cold. Jason had scoffed at Bruce when he’d told him about the heating feature, but now Jason was the old man was such a paranoid bastard, always ready for anything.

Dick’s hands reached his neck, cupping it gently, feeling for injuries. Jason tried to tell him it wasn’t broken, but his words came out a choked mess.

It was hard to make out Dick’s face in the dark, but Jason could feel the weight of his stare.

“You OK?”

 _Obviously fucking not,_ Jason thought loudly, but only managed a, “Nnnnng.”

There was noise from somewhere above them, and Dick looked up, cursing. “I need to get you out of here. I’m going to reset your shoulder, and make a splint for your wrist, OK? It’s going to hurt.”

 _Haven’t I already suffered enough tonight?_ Jason gritted his teeth and nodded to show he understood.

Dick did the shoulder first. The sudden jolt, and sharp pain set Jason off again, and he vomited a few more times. How much river water had he swallowed? He had a creeping feeling he was going to be sick as a dog for a while.

He lay, eyes closed, drifting between consciousness and exhaustion while Dick wrapped his wrist.

“Done. Can you sit up? Stand?” Dick finally said, and Jason groaned.

He made it most of the way up, but in the end, Dick had to duck under his good arm and haul most of his weight. He secured his hand on Jason’s hip, unable to grip him around the waist without aggravating his ribs. Jason suspected at least two were broken. He stumbled a few steps, his head swimming, and realised he wasn’t going to make it much further.

“Uuurh…” he grunted in warning to Dick.

And blacked out.

 

*

 

He was in bed when he came to. His bed. In his safe house. The one Dick definitely wasn’t supposed to know about.

 _Dammit._ Having a literal family of detectives was the fucking _worst_ sometimes.

He opened his eyes slowly, his whole body heavy with lethargy. The pain had been dulled, but he could feel the pull of an IV in the back of his hand. Dick must have put him on some good pain killers.

The room was only dimly lit, and appeared to be empty. Jason tried to sit up, but that pain which had mellowed out into a soft background ache came charging up again, so he collapsed back into his pillow with a grunt.

There was a small sound from the adjacent room, and then Dick appeared in the doorway.

“Jay?”

“Did you get the Merc?” Jason’s voice was as frail as a whisper. Talking hurt, but he had to know.

Dick nodded.

“Properly this time?”

Dick drew a chair up by the bed, and sat heavily into it. He’d changed out of his suit, and stolen some of Jason’s clothes. The shirt hung a little loose on him, making him look smaller.

“Been going through my wardrobe?” Jason managed a small smirk.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking sore. But I’ll heal.” Jason settled back into the pillow.

There was another long silence.

“Did you know they were going to hire mercenaries?”

“Guessed it was a possibility.” Jason tried for a shrug, but it hurt too much. “They knew I was picking them off, so I guess they paid for the extra protection. Didn’t do much good.”

Dick’s face was grim. “You should have called for back-up. I can’t believe you were going to try and take them on all alone.”

“I’d have been fine.”

“You almost _died_ , Jason!” Dick snapped, and Jason raised an eyebrow. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“I wouldn’t have missed the merc the first time around. So basically, this is your fault.”

Dick went stony. Jason laughed. He was too exhausted to be angry, and too exhausted to deal with the fall-out of something which hadn’t actually happened.

“Jesus, I’m joking, asshole,” he said. “I get it—shit happens. Maybe that bastard was hiding, maybe he got loose, maybe he wasn’t onboard the ship when you cleaned it out. Doesn’t matter, you made up for it. It’s done.” All this talking was making his throat hurt, and he cleared it. Dick inched forward, pulling a bottle of water off the side table and holding it to Jason’s mouth. Jason took a long drink, and then sighed, turning his head. “Quit looking so guilty.”

Dick didn’t reply. He placed the bottle down, and rose. “You should get some rest.”

“Not going to do anything else for a while.”

“Good. I’ll be in the other room.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going back to Blüdhaven?”

Dick choked. “Jason, look at the state of you— _of_ course I’m not going back. At least not tonight.”

Jason surprise turned to annoyance. “So we’re back to babysitting?”

“I’m _monitoring_ you. You have a concussion, three cracked ribs, a broken wrist—”

“I’ve had _way_ worse and still fought before. I don’t need a nurse.”

“You almost _drowned._ ”

“And you saved me. So, thanks for that, but I’m fine now.” Jason trailed off, as the full extent of that suddenly hit him. “Wait, did you give me mouth to mouth?”

Dick’s eyes were wide. A second later he was laughing, and Jason’s skin crawled. He usually liked it when Dick laughed—that full on, throw your head back, stomach clutching laugh that sounded like sunshine and hope and music. Dick’s head was thrown back now, and his arms were tight around his stomach, but there was a streak of something close to hysteria in his voice. It was like Dick had been hit with the Joker’s laughing gas, and was actually trying to scream. It scared the living shit out of Jason.

“Dick?” he said warily, and Dick collapsed back into his chair, head in his hands, still sniggering.

“Of course I gave you mouth to mouth, you _fucking imbecile_.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. Dick swore, but he didn’t swear like that.

“You weren’t breathing,” Dick said into his fingers, his mouth twisted into an unhappy smile. “You weren’t breathing. And your heart had stopped. I…For a second, I didn’t think I could bring you back—you were too wet to risk using the defibrillator.”

Jason felt grim. He forced himself to sit up, despite the pain. “Not sure if I’m happy I don’t remember, or sad,” he forced his own smile, as Dick looked up. “On the one side, you’re my brother, so the fact our mouths touched is weird. On the other, you’ve kissed pretty much every other superhero our age, so I was feeling super left out.”

Dick stared, his mouth going slack. And then he was laughing again—less hysterical. More natural. Jason grinned, and then had to turn his head to cough hard, his chest aching. Dick leant in and pounding him against the back, sending spikes of pain throughout his body. It helped though, and Jason was able to settle back. He massaged his chest with his good hand, letting his eyes fall closed.

“You OK?”

“Still feel like I’ve got half of the river inside of me,” Jason admitted.

Dick’s mouth was drawn into a thin line. He helped Jason lie back down again. “I’m sorry,” Dick said softly, “I should have caught you. I should have—”

“Dick,” Jason interrupted, “every part of me hurts, I don’t have the energy to deal with your angst.”

That earned him a breathy laugh. “Right. Sorry.” He patted Jason’s good shoulder. “Try and get some sleep.”

“You too, Dickiebird.”

“Sure,” Dick lied. Jason was too tired to argue. Dickiebird wanted to stay up all night and watch him snore, then fine. Whatever. Jason allowed himself to sink back into the pillows and drift off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick clutched the sink, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. He flexed his fingers around the ceramic, trying to expel the rising terror that was building in his stomach.

 _It’s over,_ he told himself, _he’s fine. Battered, but fine. It’s over. You saved him. He’s fine._

As if trying to argue, his brain offered a counterpoint—that image which had turned Dick’s guts inside out. Jason falling, Dick swinging around to catch him, and missing his brother’s fingers by mere inches as Jason plummeted beyond his reach.

Just like…

Just like…

Dick lurched forward, hunching over the sink as he vomited. His body heaved, arms shaking under the strain. He retched until he was dry-heaving, sweat prickling over his body. He straightened, shivering and panting.

His reflection was deathly white. Dick spat into the sink, and then turned on the tap, washing away the mess. The evidence. He splashed the water across his face, then leant forward to wash out his mouth and nose.

When he closed his eyes he could see his parents’ bodies lying broken so far below him. And he could see Jason disappearing into the black water.

It wasn’t the same, Dick _knew_ it wasn’t the same—Jason’s experience in the pit meant he was stronger, more durable, and he healed at an accelerated rate. Dick didn’t even think the preventative antibiotics he’d started Jason on were even necessary, but he’d done it anyway. He’d never seen his brother even catch anything close to a sniffle, but he wasn’t going to risk it with pneumonia. Who knew what else had been in that river, before Jason had swallowed half of it.

His coms gave a soft chirp, and Dick straightened, switching the water off. He answered. “ETA?”

“We’re outside,” Bruce said in his soft rumble.

Dick shot himself one final look in the mirror, swiping away the sweat and plastering a neutral expression on. He snuck out of the bathroom, and went to the front door. Bruce stepped silently into the threshold, Alfred behind him.

“Where is he?”

“Asleep, in his room,” Dick said. “He’s not going to be happy you’re here.”

“I’m not happy you went on this mission alone,” Bruce’s voice was dark. Dick drew his mouth into a line.

“It was a basic job.”

Bruce gave him a look which could have burned through him.

Dick gritted his teeth. “I just…I made a mistake,” he said softly.

“A costly one,” Bruce agreed. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I want to know why you didn’t bring him straight to the Batcave?”

Dick folded his arms, if only to hide how much they were still shaking. “You know why.”

Batman’s glare intensified. “We could have tied him down.”

“Right—yeah, because waking up, shackled to a bed is really going to keep him calm! I brought him somewhere familiar, I gave him all the necessary preliminary care, and then I called you.”

“You should have called me first!”

“I was too busy saving his life!”

“Master Bruce, Master Dick!” Alfred cut over them both. “Enough—you will wake him, and that is more likely than not to trigger a panic. I suggest, if you wish to fight, you take it elsewhere. I will go and attend to Master Jason.”

“Not alone,” Bruce said.

Alfred sighed, but conceded. Dick stepped back and out of the way, allowing them through. Bruce breezed past in icy silence.

Dick stayed in the hallway, trying to compose himself. At the time, it had felt like the right call, bringing Jason here, but the niggling worry and doubt was starting to take over. Maybe Bruce was right?

 _No,_ Dick thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Not after the last time._

The memory still made his stomach plummet. It had been some time back. Jason had taken an extreme beating and been knocked unconscious during a fight with Bane. They’d gotten him back to the Medbay in the Batcave, but when Jason had woken up…

 _Madness,_ that was as near as Dick could describe it. Jason’s expression had been completely mad. He’d ripped himself out of bed in a panic, lost in a mist of blind rage, and just attacked. They’d all gotten hurt. And by the time Jason came too, snapping out of whatever fight-or-flight flashback his surroundings had triggered, the damage was done. Alfred had broken fingers, Damian was bloody, Dick had been hit so hard in the head he couldn’t see straight, and Tim had been shot in the shoulder.

It was weeks before they saw Jason after that. Dick and Bruce had tracked him down.

 _“Look, I don’t know what happened!”_ Jason had roared. _“I don’t know, and I’m sorry! Don’t bring me back there next time! I don’t want to hurt any of you!”_

Dick rested against the wall, and slid slowly to the floor. Jason had already woken up, and he’d been calm. Maybe the last incident had been a one-off. Or maybe something in the cave _was_ a trigger, and Dick had prevented another violent panic attack.

 _This was the right call,_ Dick decided. Bruce was just angry because he’d almost lost Jason again. Bruce was just angry because he hadn’t _been_ there.

“Oh what the _fuck!?_ ” Jason’s voice rang out from the other room, and Dick was instantly on his feet.

“Language, Master Jason.”

“I can cuss in my own apartment—what the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Jason broke off into a fit of coughs and Dick moved to the doorway of the bedroom and looked in. Bruce was sat on the edge of the bed. He’d pulled Jason forward and was slapping him across the back. Jason went on for another minute, and then finally settled, his face pale and eyes dark and blood-shot. Dick pulled away, his back to the wall, heart beating too fast.

 _Alive,_ he reminded himself again. _Alive. Still alive. Fine._

“Take it easy, Jason.”

“Why are you here, Bruce? Did Dickface call you?”

“Master Dick thought it pertinent to tell us what had occurred, yes, Master Jason,” Alfred answered in his stead.

“Little _snitch._ ”

Dick almost laughed, but his chest was hurting too much. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

“You send him home?” Jason continued.

Dick closed his eyes, stealing himself, then slowly turned back into the room, trying for a casual slouch as he leant in. “Still here, Jaybird.”

“Great.” Jason was scowling. “So now I got _three_ babysitters. Like you weren’t enough.”

Dick just shrugged, keeping his mouth firmly shut. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He was exhausted, run-down, and his throat still burned from vomiting barely a few minutes ago. Jason lay back down with a grumble.

“Jason, stop acting like a child,” Bruce said, his voice firm and dark. “You almost drowned. You need medical attention and—”

“Bruce, I’m not _Tim,_ or Damian, or even Dick, OK? My body is ten times more durable than all of you.” Jason rolled his eyes and pointed at Dick. “And even if it wasn’t, Golden Boy’s been hovering around like a Mama-bird all night, monitoring me. Look.” Jason raised his hand, where the IV Dick had inserted was still in place. “Fluids, pain-killers, and I’m guessing a shit-ton of preventative antibiotics.”

“He doesn’t appear to have a temperature,” Alfred said, from where he’d quietly gotten on with an examination, despite Jason’s protests. “His vitals all appear to be in perfect working order. The bone in his wrist has also been reset, I see.” Alfred stopped to give Dick an approving look. “A good job.”

“Learned from the best,” Dick replied. Alfred’s medical lessons had been almost as vital as Batman’s combat ones.

“Indeed.” Alfred gave a half smile.

“Great!” said Jason. “Now that’s settled, can you _all get out of my apartment._ ”

“Observation for 24 hours is still recommended,” Alfred went on. “In-case of pulmonary edema, or further complications.

Jason flapped his arms, like bird trapped under a blanket. “ _Come on!_ ”

“You’re coming back with us.”

“ _I am not_ ,” Jason said, his voice taking on a sharp edge.

“This is not up for debate.” Bruce rose, and even out of the cowl, his voice, his face, his very posture all screamed Batman. It made Dick stand to attention, despite himself.

“Fuck you, Bruce!” Jason snarled, and there was real venom in his voice. “I am staying right here.”

“We are better equipped to deal with your situation in—”

“ _There is no situation!_ ” Jason screamed, and then lurched forward into another round of coughs.

Bruce hammered him on the back again, thrusted a nearby bucket at him. Jason took it, and spat, clearing his lungs. Bruce sighed deeply.

“I don’t want to fight,” he whispered, when Jason was done. “I just…Want to make sure you’re OK, Jason. I lost you once, I can’t—” He broke off.

Jason’s anger seemed to fade, but the set of his face was still stubborn. “I get it Bruce. I’m sorry I worried you. But I don’t want to go back to the cave.”

Bruce seemed to struggle, and then deflate. “OK.”

Dick almost laughed to himself. Ten years ago, Bruce would have yanked Jason, kicking and screaming, onto his shoulder and dragged him back. The old man really _was_ learning.

“But,” Bruce went on, and Dick smiled— _of course, the compromise, “_ you still need to be monitored over the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll do it,” Dick said, and Bruce looked around at him. Whatever gentleness Bruce had put on for Jason, he did not share with Dick. Dick hated being on the receiving end of that glacial stare. Bruce’s disappointment was always like a series of hard kicks to the stomach. Dick would have actually preferred the kicks.

“You’ve done enough.” Bruce didn’t bother adding the word ‘damage’ at the end, but it was more than implied.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, his tone completely different, “you fished me out of the river, beat me back to life, hauled my unconscious ass back here, and patched me right up. Enough hero-ing for the night, Dickiebird. You look beat.”

Bruce’s jaw tensed, but the intensity of his glare abated a little. Dick knew Bruce was just scared—anger was usually the first sign of it, and Dick couldn’t deny that he’d deserved it. He’d been in such a rush to get back to the building from the boat, worried Jason would jump in alone, he hadn’t done a fourth sweep. Maybe Jason was right, maybe the mercenary hadn’t been there in the first place, but Dick just didn’t know.

“I’m staying,” Dick said.

“Fine,” Jason huffed. “There Bruce. Golden Boy’s going to keep watching over me. You can rest easy.”

Bruce silently rose from the bed. “A word?” he said curly to Dick, and didn’t wait for a response.

Bone-weary, Dick followed him out of the apartment, and up onto the roof. The night sky was clouded over, and it was cold. The t-shirt and tracksuits weren’t enough to keep out the bite of the chill.

Bruce stared out over the city, hands clenched behind his back. Dick braced himself for the lecture, but it didn’t come. For two full minutes, they stood in absolute silence.

Finally, Dick couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, the moment I see any sign of a fever, I’ll bring him straight to you, even if he disowns me, OK?”

“Dick…” Bruce rumbled.

“I stand by my decision. Something spooked him in the cave last time, and I wasn’t risking it again. My choice was calculated—I _literally_ did the math.”

“Dick—”

“And I called you as soon as I could! My coms got damaged in the river when I dove in after Jason, and I had to get him to a safe place first. We need to improve the water-proof capabilities of our regular equipment, because—”

“Dick, enough!”

“You think this is hard for you!” Dick yelled. “I had to restart his _heart_ , Bruce! I had to watch as he—”

He saw it again, the flash of reaching hands, Jason falling out of his reach, Dick missing him by a breath.

Dick’s mouth slammed closed before he was sick again. _Not in-front of Bruce. Not in-front of Batman._

Bruce was watching him very carefully, his eyes calculating. Dick squirmed, struggeling to pull himself together. When Bruce looked like that, it was like he was pealing back Dick’s skin—staring right into him.

“You should take a break,” Bruce said at last, his voice even.

“Jason isn’t going to rest until you’re both gone, and I’m not—”

“Not from monitoring Jason. From work.”

All the air left him. Dick’s mouth opened and closed, choking out non-existent words. “ _What_?” he finally spluttered.

The lines on Bruce’s face were hard. “I was worried, but this confirms it—you’re too distracted. And after what you went through, at Christmas, I understand, but—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Being distracted in the field can get you hurt. It can get you killed—”

Dick had Bruce by the lapels a moment later, and was shaking him. “What happened today has _nothing to do with Mirage!_ ” he roared. “Nothing! I have been working fine, I have been doing fine.”

“You were suicidal, Dick,” Bruce murmered.

“ _Me!_ ” Dick snapped. “Yes! But if you think I would _ever_ let that affect Jason’s safety— _any of their safety_ —than you don’t know me at all.” Dick pushed Bruce back, actually making him stagger. “Don’t forget who wore that cowl when you were gone. Don’t forget who took care of your son, even whilst mourning _your_ loss. I have been doing this longer than _any of them._ Hell—I’ve almost been doing this as long as _you,_ and I certainly started younger.  You made the role, but I was actually trained for it. So don’t you dare treat me like some rookie…Not after _you_ taught me what it meant to wear that mask.”

Anger had flared in Bruce’s eyes, but it died down. He spoke quietly. “But you still made a mistake.”

“And you’ve made hundreds before,” Dick said. “But here we are.”

Bruce looked at him levelly, his eyes narrowed. He raised his hands and rested them on Dick’s shoulders.

“I trust you, Dick,” he said. “And if you say you’re not distracted, that you’re not being affected…Then fine...” He squeezed a little, his eyebrows pinching together. “But make sure it’s true. Really ask yourself. If you can do that, and say it with confidence, then I won’t mention it again.”

Dick opened his mouth, but no words came out. Bruce nodded.

“Take some time,” he said. “Better to look at it, when your blood isn’t running so hot.”

Dick felt himself wilt a little. He nodded. “When did you get so…reasonable?”

“I have Damian for a son now. One of us had to be.”

Dick snorted, and Bruce actually smiled. He moved toward the doorway, to go back inside.

“Thank you, Dick,” he said softly. “For bringing him back alive.” _When I couldn’t._ Again, Bruce didn’t need to add the last few words for them to be heard. “And,” he went on, “I haven’t forgotten.” Real sadness flashed in his face. “What you’ve done. For the family. And for me. I think about it every day.”

*

Jason was desperately tired by the time Bruce and Alfred left. He vowed, when he was a little more mended, he’d swing around Gotham, but the idea of the recovering in the cave brought him out in a cold sweat.

Dick collapsed into the chair beside Jason’s bed, his eyes dark.

“Bruce chewed you out, huh?” Jason said.

“Not as much as I thought…And he might have had a few points,” Dick replied. He ran a hand down his face with a long sigh, slouching back. Jason felt a spark of annoyance shoot though him.

“Dick, you need me to do a fucking river dance for you? _I’m alive_. Would you quit using me as an excuse to feed your superior sense of guilt?”

Dick raised his eyebrows. “I don’t even know where to begin trying to decipher that.”

“I’m saying that, considering we came out on top tonight, you look like you’re one hard word away from a full-on breakdown.”

“If that was true, Bruce would have already got me.”

“Surprised he didn’t. You look _terrible,_ Dick. Like, seriously terrible. Worse than I feel. And you don’t _have_ to feel like that, you’re _choosing_ to.”

“Is that right?” Dick muttered.

“You’re wallowing. Admit it.”

Dick pursed his lips. “I’m trying not to.”

“I get it—there’s history there, with me. But we’ve all almost died before. Several times. It’s literally the whole job. Usually, at this point after the mission, we’re usually over it though. So why do you still look like you’re trying to swallow grit?”

“It’s personal.”

“I was the one who fucking drowned!”

 “You fell into the river.”

“Fell—I was pushed, asshole!”

“You fell.”

“Did you hit your head? You _saw_ him lift me up over the edge.”

“You fell,” Dick’s voice was impossibly small. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“Dick, you—” Realisation dawned through Jason, choking him out. “Oh.” He said. “ _Oh._ ”

Dick stared hard at the bed covers, his face set. Jason ran a hand up through his hair, grimacing. It was greasy and dirty.

“I barely remembered that bit,” he admitted. “I guess it would feel different from your side.”

“Yeah,” Dick laughed breathily. “Just a bit.” He inhaled deeply and held it, letting it out over a long count. Jason bit his lip. “So there,” Dick finally said, his voice forced. “That’s why I’m wallowing. Because for a minute there, I lost you in the same way I lost my parents…Completely different, but,” he held out his hand, as if gazing into a memory, trying to catch ghostly fingers, “the same.”

“Sorry, Dick.”

“Stop.” Dick seemed to snap back to reality, lowering his hand, his voice oddly curt. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I should thank you though…For bringing me here. Even if you called Bruce…This was better than the alternative.”

Dick stared at the ceiling. “Will you tell me?” he asked quietly. “What is it about the cave? Last time, when you…Do you know?”

Jason considered just ignoring the question and drifting off to sleep, but after Dick’s confession it just didn’t feel right. He sighed.

“The sound,” he said.

“Huh?”

“The fucking sound.”

“The…sound of the cave?”

“It’s too big.”

“I…” Dick laughed. “I’m really not following you here.”

“I went to hell, Dick,” Jason said it so softly, he wasn’t even sure Dick heard. Dick went utterly quiet. “When I died, I went to hell. And you want to know the funny thing? It’s not fire and brimstone. It’s not a pit of screams, and torture. Hell is fucking empty.”

“Jason,” Dick’s voice was tight and small.

“I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even see. But I heard it—that emptiness. I _felt it._ And I knew…I knew no one was coming for me. No one was coming to save me.”

Something grabbed his hand, making him jump. He looked down to find Dick bowed over his fingers, holding them tightly, his shoulders shaking. Emotion welled up in Jason’s throat.

“I don’t know how long I was there—seconds, decades…but suddenly there was this feeling, like I was sinking, but rising at the same time. And I felt this kind of glimmer in me, this hope—that someone was there. That _something_ was there. And I willed myself toward it, and I…” Jason closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, the memories scratching their way out of the dark corners where he’d banished them. “The first wave of pain, I was _glad_ of it, because it felt real. Pain was life. But it grew, and it grew, and I knew something was wrong.” Jason had to stop to take a long, controlling breath. “I was in the Pit, and it was like nothing…nothing I’ve ever…I was already dead, but it was _killing_ me, even as it was bringing me back. It wasn’t just water filling my lungs, it was… _evil._ I flowed through me, and I just…I just…”

Nothing else came out. Jason couldn’t go on. Dick’s grip on his hand was now painfully tight, but Jason was glad of it, tethering him to the room.

“The cave…waking up there, it doesn’t just bring back the memories…It brings them to life. All of it,” Jason said. “And it’s like I go through it all again. And each time, the pit steals a bit more of my soul.”

“Jesus, Jason,” Dick moaned. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, can we quit apologising to for each other’s unrelated shit? We’re both fucked up, we know that. But we’re here. Right?”

Dick straightened, and his eyes were red. “Right,” he croaked, sniffing loudly. He didn’t let go of Jason’s hand. “Thank you, for telling me.”

“I guess we made that dumb promise at Christmas, didn’t we?”

“I think it was probably the most sensible thing we’ve ever done.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jason muttered, dropping his gaze. “Look, I’m beat. I need to sleep.”

“You do.” Dick didn’t let go of his hand, and Jason debated with himself on whether or not to pull away. He decided to let Dick have his way, and closing his eyes, he let exhaustion win over again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting this! I've been swamped with work.   
> Also, unexpected cameo appearances from John Constantine and Tim!   
> Enjoy!

_The water was filling his lungs. Jason thrashed, gasping as pain burned along his body. It was spreading through him, flushing his veins like poison, fire eating him. He couldn’t fight it off, couldn’t force it out. The pressure inside was overwhelming._

_He fumbled his hands at his neck, like he was being strangled. The water rushed endlessly into his mouth, and it was black and inky, like molten metal, weighing him down._

_No-no-no-no-no-please-God-no—not again!_

_The scream built up inside him, drowned by a wall of water. The numbness was growing from his fingers down into his arms. That distant feeling, that detachment._

_No! No! Please, anything but this!_

_The weight of the emptiness enveloped him, and he was in hell._

_Jason was in hell._

*

Hands yanked him forward, and pain exploded across his back. Jason choked, eyes flying open, as he coughed, still drowning. There was a rhythmic sound, like a drum, and he realised he was being smacked between the shoulder blades. 

 _This isn’t hell,_ he realised. This all felt too _alive_ to be hell. Too uncomfortable. Too real.

 _Thank God,_ the relief was so monumental he felt weak. _Thank God._

Water erupted from his mouth, and then he was vomiting, long and hard. It was so painful his eyes watered, but the pressure in his chest alleviated, and the hand on his back went from powerful strikes to long, hard rubs, as if willing all the badness out of his body.

 _Dick,_ Jason identified at last, as consciousness finally won over. It was Dick. Jason’s whole body would have melted in relief, if he weren’t taken over by another strong bout of coughing. By the time he’d finished, streaks of blood were staining his spit red, and his throat felt raw, strings of spittle dribbling down his mouth. Dick had had the smart of idea of lodging a bucket between his legs, saving them both a big mess. Jason sucked in a rattling breath and spat, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. His shoulders hitched and shuddered as he continued to drag in gasps of air. It took him a second to realise that he was actually sobbing.

Dick’s hands moved, and arms looped around him, tipping Jason to the side. Jason found himself enveloped once again, but this was nothing like the heavy embrace of the water, or the empty embrace of hell, or the clutching embrace of the Pit…

It was awkward, and almost uncomfortable, his body pulled in at a strange angle, the bucket of vomit still tucked between his knees, his skin slick with sweat and nose running. But it was safe.

Jason’s sobbing grew, his fingers curling into the fabric of Dick’s too-big t-shirt. He buried his face into Dick’s shoulder, pushing so hard into him it was almost painful. His brother anchored him, tethering him to life. If Jason didn’t hold on, he’d be left to drift back into that endless, empty silence, unprotected and alone, waiting for the Pit to reclaim another part of him, to bite out another chunk of his soul.

Dick rocked him very lightly from side to side, his voice a soft hum as he whispered words too low for Jason to actually make out.

The tension bled out of Jason’s body, and he slowly drifted back to sleep.

 

*

 

 “I should have realised this is how it would end.”

Dick was pulled from sleep by an irritated voice. He blinked lethargically, vision unfocused as he raised his head. “Huh?” Bright sunlight burned his eyes and he groaned, his head pounding.

It wasn’t the only sore thing. His arm was both numb and throbbing, pinned down by something heavy.

Something moving.

He forced his eyes to focus, and found himself staring straight into the face of his little brother. Jason’s expression was twisted with amused annoyance, eyebrows knitted together.

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” he said. “You’re a fucking…cuddle thief.”

“What?” Dick said, dazed.

“Let. Go.”

Dick’s mind finally caught up with him, and he realised why his arm hurt so much. Jason was lying on-top of it, pinning it to the mattress, and he couldn’t move because Dick had spooned himself around his little brother, and had his other arm curled around Jason’s chest.

“Oh!” He released Jason, who immediately rolled away, liberating Dick’s arm. Sharp needles stabbed their way up, as the blood flowed back, and Dick winced, massaging the aching muscle.

Jason was sat up, looking like he was fighting between a scowl and a smile. “You are the most needy piece of shit I have ever met, Dick Grayson.”

“Urh,” Dick replied, abandoning his aching arm in favour of rubbing his aching head. “I must have fallen asleep while I was comforting you last night.”

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Last night.” Dick studied him. “You had a nightmare, I think? You were thrashing around, and I calmed you down. You were sobbing and coughing so hard you were sick. Don’t you remember?”

A flush of red coloured Jason’s cheeks, but he kept his expression dubious. “Sounds fake.”

“I went to empty out the damn bucket, but every time I left, you woke up and started panicking again, so I just sort of stayed close…I didn’t mean to doze off.”

The red tinge had completely saturated across Jason’s face. “Bullshit,” he decreed. “You just waited until I couldn’t physically kick you out, and slipped under the covers to steal my body-heat.”

“I’m pretty sure I have snot-stains on my t-shirt from you weeping into my chest,” Dick said, swinging his legs around and over the side of the bed.

“Nope. Never happened.”

Dick slowly pushed himself onto his feet, his back popping as he stretched. He wondered around to the other side of the bed and perched on the edge. Jason pretended to try and escape but Dick caught his wrist, and pressed the back of his other hand to Jason’s forehead.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” Jason said, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “Better. My lungs feel clear.”

“Good.” Dick picked up the body scanner Alfred had left him, and faced it toward Jason. The results were positive, and Dick felt a twitch of envy when he saw how quickly Jason’s shoulder and wrist were already healing. He’d be better in no time. Dick rose. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“Urh, no offense Dick, but you’re cooking is sub-par at best, and lethal at worst.”

“First of all, screw you. Second of all, I’m pretty sure I can extend my skills to pouring some milk into a bowl of cereal for you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Still feel like you’re going to mess that up somehow.”

“Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“Trick question. You’re getting water.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

Jason complained loudly as Dick disappeared into the kitchen, but accepted the food regardless when he returned.

“I knew you’d mess this up—how much milk did you have to pour into here? You’ve drowned the cereal!” Jason complained.

Dick ignored him, picking his way across the room, and tidying away the things from last night. There was a loud knock on the door, startling both of them.

“That better not be Bruce,” Jason muttered, and Dick went quietly to the door to check.

Peering through the eyehole, he exhaled and unbolted the door. “Tim?”

“Morning,” Tim said, pushing a steaming hot cup into Dick’s hands as he stepped in. “Heard what happened last night, figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

Dick groaned in gratitude. “Hazelnut hot chocolate?” he sniffed the sweet drink.

“With enough marshmallows and cream to give you diabetes. You decent in there, Jay?” Tim shouted down the corridor.

“Go home, you dumb twerp!” was the reply.

“I got you some coffee.”

A pause. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Tim smiled widely, and Dick felt his heart lift. He ruffled his brother’s hair. “Nice of you to swing by.”

“Bruce wanted to, but Alfred and I convinced him to stay put. You know how he and Jason can get antsy around each other when one of them are like this.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick murmured. “I was surprised he even let Jason stay here last night.”

“So was Alfred. He gave Bruce a big lecture on the way here, apparently, but didn’t expect him to actually listen.” Tim peered up at Dick. “You OK?”

“I’m good, Timbo, don’t worry.”

“I’m still not seeing that promised coffee!” Jason bellowed from the room.

“Jason, anyone ever tell you that you are the _biggest_ pain in the ass when you’re sick?” Tim rolled his eyes and wandered into the bedroom. Jason stuck his middle finger up, but accepted his own cup from Tim eagerly. Dick hung in the doorway, sipping his hot-chocolate slowly. Warmth spread through his body.

“The Bat send you to spy on us?” Jason asked.

“If he wants to spy, he can use the secret cameras he installed in you room,” Tim replied, taking a gulp of his own coffee. Dick suspected this wasn’t his first one of the morning. Jason narrowed his eyes, and then looked around the room.

“I know that’s supposed to be a joke, but now I’m paranoid.”

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Dick agreed.

“Urh, now I’ve gotta move again!”

“Relax, even Bruce has basic privacy standards….now,” Tim said.

They sat in silence together for a minute, all drinking, and then Tim reached into his pocket and held up his phone. “By the way, I thought you might like to know what happened last night.”

“Huh?”

“I followed up on reports of your mission last night, from the police. You’ll be pleased to know several further arrests have been made, and the whole trafficking ring is gone. Six of the kidnapped victims have already been reunited with their families, and Bruce pulled some strings to make sure the others are housed well and get the treatment they need.”

Jason was quiet for a moment, his face contemplative. “Good,” he said. “That’s good. What about the asshole that almost blew me up?”

“Detained at the hospital. He’ll be there for a while,” Tim said. “He’s still unconscious.”

Jason raised his eyebrows and looked at Dick. “What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t have time to go gentle,” Dick replied stiffly. “I needed to make sure he stayed down when I dove in after you.”

“Reports say he was actually one of the guys you’d already rounded up on the ground. He slipped away from the police, and tried to escape on the boat,” Tim went on.

“So he wasn’t on the ship before?”

“No.” Tim’s eyes were level.

Dick felt like the balloon of guilt and anxiety had finally deflated in his chest, and he almost staggered. “So I didn’t miss him?”

“Nope. Police mishap. Not your fault.”

Dick closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “OK,” he croaked. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Figured you’d be beating yourself up about it,” Tim said. “Really the one at fault is Jason.”

“Hey!” Jason spluttered.

“You were going to try pull a Batman!”

“Pull a Batman?”

“Take them all on alone!” Tim snapped. “You would have been outnumbered, and killed!”

“Oh my God.” Jason rolled his eyes, slipping lower down into the bed. “Why are you all such fucking nags? OK, I get it! I won’t do it again. _Jesus._ ”

“We have all lost _way_ too much to lose each other now,” Tim said, and Jason’s mouth drew into a long line.

“Yeah, kid,” he muttered, “all right. Agreed. Next time, I’ll call for back-up, if I need it.”

“Good,” Tim said.

“Pull a Batman,” Dick murmured. “I have a feeling that one’s going to stick.”

“It already has,” Tim said, but was distracted as his phone started to ring. He answered it, listening in absolute silence, before hanging up. “Got to go,” he said. “I’m on a case.” He leant in and gave Jason a brief, one-armed hug. “Come by the mansion sometime. And call Bruce—he’s been freaking out all night.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jason said. “Look out for yourself, kid.”

Tim accepted a full hug from Dick, who gave him an extra, silent squeeze of thanks. “I’ll see you soon, Timbo. Thanks for the drinks.” _And for the news._

Jason waited until Tim had gone to turn back to Dick.

“No but seriously,” he said, with a grin, “what did you do to the merc on the ship? I want details.”

 

*

 

“It’s a bad idea letting yourself in through my windows uninvited, mate,” a British, gravelly voice informed Nightwing as he slipped into the office. “You never know what wards I’ve got hangin’ round.”

“John Constantine.” Dick sat on the ledge, staring in at the blond sat at the desk opposite him. John raised a hand in half-greeting, a cigarette between two fingers.

“Thought you might be the Bat,” Constantine said. “That one’s got a real aversion to doors.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “But you, I don’t recognise you.”

“Actually, we have met. Can I come in?”

“Dunno, sunshine, can you?”

Dick gently lowered himself into the room, and when he didn’t immediately burst into flames, he relaxed. “You were joking about the wards then?”

“Sure. Except if you’d meant me harm you’d have disintegrated in a pile of salt.”

“Oh. Right.” Dick looked nervously around. He still wasn’t one-hundred percent used to all this magic stuff.

“You say we know each other?”

“We met when I was younger. About eight years ago.”

Constantine narrowed his eyes, looking Dick up at down. “You’re one of the Bat’s little birdies?”

“The first.” Nightwing extended his hand, and Constantine took it.

“Well, aren’t you all grown up?” His eyes roamed up Dick’s body with obvious interest. “I remember you now—you saved my neck. Here for the return favour?”

“I heard you knew a thing or two about hell.”

Constantine’s blue eyes darkened. “A thing or two, yeah, sure.”

“I wanted to ask you about it. I have a friend who was brought back to life, you see.”

Constatine snorted. “Of course you do.”

“He thinks he went to hell, but I…”

“You don’t believe it? Or don’t _want_ to believe it.” Constantine nodded slowly. “What does he remember then, this friend of yours.”

Dick described what Jason had told him, drawing on as much detail as he could. Constantine listened in silence. By the end he was smiling slightly.

“Good news for you, birdy,” he said. “What you’re friend described was limbo.”

“Limbo?”

“Purgatory, some call it. The between space. Kind of like a half-way house for the almost dead and for lost souls. My guess, your friend was in heaven, but when he was brought back, his soul was dragged into purgatory and held there, until his body was ready. Messy business. Can’t have been comfortable.”

Dick felt his breath catch. “How do you know he was in heaven?”

“You’d know if he’d been to hell, mate,” Constantine rumbled. “Trust me. The smell never quite comes off.”

Dick slumped against the wall, exhaling loudly. “That’s…a huge relief.”

“He been having bad dreams?”

“Yes.” Dick looked Constantine up and down. “How did you—”

“I’ve been to purgatory mate. Not a lot of fun, then again, messing with the forces of life and death was never going to be. Tell your mate to pop ‘round, if he wants. I know a blessing which can get the chill out from inside of him.”

“Really? Thank you.”

“I did say I owed you that favour.” Constantine settled back at his desk, putting his feet up. “And if you ever want to come round again, wouldn’t mind gettin’ to know you better…” He let his eyes roll up Dick’s body again.

“Thanks, but I’m taken.”

Constantine sighed. “Yeah, they always are.”

Dick smiled. “I’m Nightwing now, by the way. If you ever need an assist with anything…?”

“I’ll bear you in mind, thanks.” Constantine saluted him, and Dick climbed back up through the window, and leapt out into the night with one final wave.  

 

*

 

“You’re an intrusive asshole, Dick,” Jason growled, the pair of them sat on the roof ledge, nursing hamburgers. They’d been on patrol together, Jason’s first since getting better. Dick had waited until they’d finished to break the news.

“I thought you might want to know.”

“It wasn’t up to you to go and ask some occultist wanker about my private shit.”

Dick paused. “Would you have gone?”

Jason scowled at him. “Maybe. No. Yes.” He chewed on the inside of his lip. “You sure it was limbo.”

“That’s what Constantine said. You can go and ask him yourself. He’s been there too.”

Jason digested these words slowly, and turned back to face the city. “Maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”

“Make sure you use the door when you do.” Dick shuddered at the possibility of what could have happened if Constantine’s wards had mistook him.

Jason was quiet for a long time. “Thanks, Dick,” he murmered. “You’re a nosy son of a bitch, but…Thanks.” He looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly.

Dick put his arm around Jason’s shoulders. “For what it’s worth, Jay, I never believed you could have gone to hell, not even for a minute. And if you ever did wind up down there…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d go down and drag you out myself.”

Jason stared at him, and then exploded with laughter. “You know, you cheesy bastard, I believe you would,” he said.

Distantly an alarm started to sound, the brothers cocking their heads in unison to listen to it.

“Now who could be making that sort of racket at this time of night?” Jason shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and stood. Dick followed his example, brushing crumbs off his suit.

“No rest for the wicked means no rest for the good,” he grinned, and they both leapt down together.


End file.
